


Depending on One Knot for Five Loose Ends

by LustielsJournal



Series: In this darkness, I might just disappear [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, All the Sams, Angst, Caring Bobby, Caring Dean, Demon Sam, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Pissed Dean, Protective Dean, Psychic Sam, Recovery, Revenge, Sam Winchester Has PTSD, Sam Winchester Has Powers, Sam Winchester is Scarred For Life, Sam Winchester is a bamf, Scars, Selectively Mute Sam Winchester, Telekinetic Sam, Telepathic Sam, Torture, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:40:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28564509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LustielsJournal/pseuds/LustielsJournal
Summary: Sequel to 'A Prison of One's Own Making'. Season 5 AU. The brothers are reunited and have to manage the significant ways captivity has changed Sam. Dean wants revenge and there's still a looming Apocalypse to deal with. Maybe Sam's new abilities can give them the upper hand, but at what cost?Cross-posted to fanfic.net
Series: In this darkness, I might just disappear [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2179989
Comments: 25
Kudos: 45





	1. Strength & Fragility

**Author's Note:**

> This story is mostly rated T but there will be a chapter or two with an M rating. These chapters will be indicated as such. Otherwise, general warnings for language, violence, gore, the usual.
> 
> Title comes from Chris Kasper's song "And You Wait". I really need to work on having shorter titles lol.
> 
> No copyright infringement intended.

"Sam!" Dean exclaimed, nearly tripping over the table in his rush to get to his brother.

But Sam had seen the gun in his hand and the memory of Dean shooting his demonic self flashed before his eyes, phantom pain flaring in his chest. Instinctively, he recoiled from Dean and took a step back to put the doorframe in between them. The motion stopped his brother in his tracks and his face fell.

"Sam? Are-are you alright?" Dean's tone had gone from ecstatic to trying to calm a frightened, injured animal.

 ** _Because that's all you are now_** , a voice whispered in Sam's head.

He swallowed hard in agitation and looked up at Dean, forcing himself to hold Dean's eyes. _'S-sorry. Ju-just got spooked.'_ His gaze flicked to the gun and then back to Dean's face.

Dean followed the movement and quickly tossed the gun aside. "Sorry, reflex. I didn't know if you were—"

 _'Lucifer, I know.'_ Sam's voice sounded so small and timid. _'I'm not, I p-promise. You can t-test me.'_ He held his arms forward, offering himself up for whatever test Dean wanted.

Dean shook his head. "I don't need to. I know it's you." He took a step towards Sam and was relieved that Sam didn't move away. He took another step forward. He noted Sam's fingers clench on the doorframe but he didn't otherwise retreat. He got within arms reach and when Sam didn't react, he swept Sam up into the tightest hug he could remember giving. Sam froze under his touch, barely suppressing a flinch, then returned the embrace as best he could.

Dean knew he should probably check on Sam first and see if he needed anything, but his guilt silenced any other thoughts. "Sammy, oh my God, Sammy, I'm so sorry all of this happened to you. This is my fault, I should have picked up the damn phone when you needed me. I'm the worst brother in the world—"

 _'No, you're not,_ ' Sam interrupted. ' _You're the best brother in the world. You s-saved me, more times than I can count. You saved me from—_ ' Sam hesitated but forced himself to keep going. ' _From_ them _, and from Lucifer. I couldn't have made it back without you._ '

"But none of it would have happened if I hadn't been such a dick and made you stay away. I basically kicked you out and I was so wrong to do that. I hope one day you can forgive me."

Dean pulled out of the embrace to look at Sam, trying to communicate his sincerity and regret. Tears brimmed in both their eyes.

"Dean!" Bobby's voice called excitedly. "I can't explain it, but I can walk again! My legs are worki—" He stopped abruptly when ran into the room from another entrance and saw Sam, awake. "Sam?!"

Dean spun so they could both see Bobby. Sam smiled as a tear dripped down his face. He struggled to hold Bobby's gaze but he took a step towards him. ' _Heya, Bobby._ '

"Boy, it is so good to see you awake!" He strode over to Sam and gave him a tight hug before pulling back and holding his shoulders. Sam's head was still tucked down. "How are you feeling? Is there anything you need?"

Sam looked up, completely unsure how to answer that question. He didn't even get the chance to think about his response because Bobby huffed in surprise and stepped back, pulling out a gun and aiming it at Sam. "What are you? Are you really Sam?"

 ** _Not anymore, you aren't_** _,_ that voice mocked.

Sam put his hands up in defense. ' _It's me, I promise.'_

"Bobby," Dean warned.

"Why is his eye like that? What's going on?"

_'Lucifer. It's from Lucifer. He must have done something to me, but it's me, I swear.'_

Bobby suddenly looked even more suspicious. "How are you doing that?"

"Doing what?" Dean asked.

Bobby threw a startled glance at Dean. "You can hear me?"

Dean blinked a few times, pondering that. "Yeah, I guess so. Got my hearing back when I saw Sam." Only now did it register that the two events may be connected.

"I'm bettin' that was the same time I got my legs back." Bobby narrowed his eyes. "I'm gonna ask you again. How did you do that, and how did you heal us?"

Sam shrugged, but he was shaking slightly. He looked back and forth nervously between Dean and Bobby. ' _I-I don't know. I didn't try to, if that's what you asking...'_

"You see it yet, Dean?"

Dean scrunched his brow in confusion. "Besides a starving, exhausted little brother with a glowing red eye that Lucifer probably left as a parting gift? No, I'm not seeing anything." Dean moved so that he could assess Sam. "What is it?" Dean could feel the panic radiating off of Sam. "Just spill Bobby, you're freaking him out."

"Watch when he talks." The older men gazed at Sam, waiting.

 _'What about when I talk?_ ' Sam queried.

Realization dawned on Dean's face, but instead of being skeptical, it only confirmed something for Dean. "Man, I told you earlier, Bobby. And I was right!" Dean seemed pleased but Bobby still looked disgruntled.

' _Dean, what?_ ' Sam was getting visibly upset.

"You're frickin' telepathic dude! When you talk, your mouth doesn't move. But we _hear_ you. There were a few times while you were still out that I would touch your arm or something and hear your voice. See, I knew it!" Dean was beaming at Bobby but the other two men were clearly still trying to incorporate the information into their new reality.

Bobby put his gun away and his mood softened. " _Can_ you talk?"

Sam's glance shifted anxiously. ' _I don't know. I haven't had to in... in a l-long time._ ' He was afraid to know the answer. What if _they_ had stolen his voice from him?

"But you spoke earlier," Dean offered. "When you were on demon blood—oh..."

Sam hunched in on himself and bowed his head.

"It's not your fault, Sam," Bobby said confidently. "They forced it on you. I've been reading the journals they kept—"

Sam's head snapped up so fast Dean thought he might get whiplash. 'They _kept journals?!_ ' What little color Sam had drained from his face as he turned and fled.

"Really, Bobby? He's been awake less than ten minutes and you drop that shit on him?" Bobby gave an apologetic shrug. Dean turned to follow Sam and saw the front door wide open. He sighed and set out to retrieve his brother. _So much for a happy reunion._

* * *

Sam wanted to run away, as far as he could and never look back, but his strength was failing him. He found an open trunk in the junkyard and threw himself into it. He closed the door as quietly as he could. He cursed his luck when he saw that the locking mechanism was broken. He'd just have to stay completely silent and maybe Dean wouldn't find him.

"Sam?" Dean shouted. He was mercifully far away.

Sam curled into a ball and sunk his fingers into his hair. What was he gonna do? His best hope had been that Dean and Bobby wouldn't know too much and he'd be able to just bury it and move on. Not that he would ever forgive himself, but he could at least pretend for both their sakes. But they knew. He wasn't sure how much, but any of it was bad enough. Why the fuck did _they_ have to keep journals? Why?

He pulled on his hair, panic and anxiety consuming him. All he wanted was to be accepted again and now that was off the table.

"Sammy? C'mon man, it's alright."

What was possibly alright about this situation? He was a demonic weapon that had been used and abused, sold to the highest bidder. Dean had been the only thing to save him from Lucifer, so he couldn't even claim the moral high ground there. He wasn't worth the care of people like Dean and Bobby. Trapped in his mind, he had thought maybe he was worth it, maybe he could be if they didn't know. But no one could look at him the same, as human, as worth loving, knowing what he had done. He wouldn't ask that of Dean.

He realized now that even though he had escaped his mind with the understanding that Dean would take him back no matter what, he saw how unfair that was. It was too big of an ask. He was the anathema of all Dean stood for. He has been unfaithful and betrayed his family because of Ruby, then gained supernatural powers by drinking demon blood, and hurt innocent people due to said powers. How cruel then that Dean wouldn't actually kill him like he had promised. He didn't deserve to live.

"Why are you hiding? I just got you back and you're already trying to run away?"

 _It's for your own good_ , Sam thought to himself bitterly.

"What? No! What would be good for me is to have my brother here."

 _'Y-you weren't meant to hear that...'_ Guess he needed to control this newfound telepathy a little better. How does one even practice that?

"Sam, whatever is going through your head right now, you can tell me. Hell, you can tell me about any of it. Or none of it. I don't care. I just want you here."

**_No, Dean, you don't. The Sam you knew is dead. Why don't you tell him that?_ **

"Sam, c'mon," Dean called. "I just got you back and you're already trying to bail? You can trust me. You don't need to be afraid of me."

_No, Dean, leave, please, and you'll never have to see me again. I'll stay far, far away and never bother you, bother anyone, just don't send me back._

"Send you back?! Why the fuck would I do that?" His voice was louder and he sounded a little irritated. "I've been hunting you down for _months_ , and you think I'm gonna let you go that easy?"

 _Hunting me down?!_ His brain latched onto that phrase and fear infested him.

**_Hunting you down like the monster you are. He said he was done saving you..._ **

Footsteps approached his hiding spot and he braced himself. Fingers curled under the trunk door and Sam felt his power surge outward, attempting to hold the door in place.

"What the hell, Sam? Let me in. I'm trying to help you."

 _'No one can help me. Nothing can help me. Please, leave me alone, I'll be g-good, I promise._ '

Dean tried to lift the trunk again but it wouldn't budge. He rubbed a hand over his face in exasperation. He was not at all prepared for this. _But you should have been. What made you think he was gonna wake up and be fine? Idiot._

"You think I'm here to hurt you?" Dean asked softly. "You think we don't want you around anymore? You're wrong. We've been trying to find you and getting anyone we can to help. Ellen, Rufus, Lindsey—"

 _'Lindsey?! She's okay?!'_ Sam's focus broke and Dean was able to lift the door. His little brother scrunched into a tiny ball. Sam's nails were digging into his scalp.

"Yeah, and you can see her when she's done work if you ever decide to leave this trunk." Sam shook his head. "She wants to see you."

 _'She shouldn't_.'

"Don't make me drag you out of this car," he threatened gently. When Sam didn't respond, Dean reached forward to grab Sam's arm. He was about six inches from Sam's withered bicep when he felt himself rebuffed by a wall of tingling energy. _Kid's got some crazy new mojo._ " _Sam_. Come on."

Sam shook his head. ' _Why won't you just leave?! I'm no good to you anymore._ '

**_Maybe you never were. Maybe your entire life has been one endless burden for him that he's borne with a smile on his face because that's what was expected of him._ **

"Dude, you know that's not true. And even if it was true, I don't keep you around because of what you can _do_ for me, it's because your my little brother and I want you around."

_'You shouldn't. You know what's happened. You know what I've done.'_

"Actually, I don't know that much. Bobby hid the journals from me. But that's not the point. I don't care, Sam, I don't care what you did or didn't do. I don't give a rat's ass about what those bastards forced you to do. Because I know _you_ wouldn't have done it if you had the choice. Because you are one of the most moral, stick-up-the-ass, righteous people I know and you were doing what you had to do to get by. I don't hold that against you and you shouldn't either."

Dean tried reaching forward and was relieved he could touch Sam, though it did elicit a flinch. He took hold of Sam's forearms and pulled his hands down from his face. Sam's eyes were puffy and shining. _'You don't know, Dean, you don't know what I've done. You would hate me. You will hate me.'_

**_Like he doesn't already?_ **

Dean sighed. "I can't hate you. It's not possible. Alright, enough of this, I'm getting you outta here." Without warning, Dean gripped Sam's thigh and shoulder and pulled Sam out of the trunk. Sam flailed in panic and they both tumbled to the ground. Dean landed on his ass and Sam's head wasn't far from his lap. He dragged Sam closer to him and held Sam's head over his chest. Dean's voice dropped into the hoarse whisper he reserved for speaking uncomfortable truths. "I hate myself for pushing you away when you needed me most. I hate myself because I couldn't protect you from all this shit. I hate myself for failing at the only job that's really mattered in my life: keeping you safe—"

_'Dean—'_

"I don't wanna hear any more excuses from you. You didn't deserve any of this."

Sam let Dean's statement loiter in his mind. At this point, he wasn't sure if he actually did deserve everything or if he had just convinced himself of it as a way of coping. In the end, did it matter? It had still happened and he had to deal with the fallout. Though how was he supposed to deal? No amount of therapy, booze, or anything else would fix this. _This._ All that 'this' entailed. Memories came flooding into his mind and he was swept away in the current. The onslaught caught him off guard and he felt himself drowning in misery and shame.

Dean felt the air around them become charged with energy, the hair on his arms and back of his neck standing on end like before a lightning strike. His brother started shaking and gasping for air. "Sam? Sammy? What's going on? Talk to me." He spun Sam's body so that his head was laying in his lap. Sam's eyes were closed tightly and fought Dean's attempt to manually open them. The right eye was fine, but the red glow of the left eye had intensified significantly since Dean had last observed it. "Sam, c'mon, I'm right here, listen to me, I won't let anything bad happen, I got you, baby brother, please..."

Sam latched on to the sound of Dean's voice and forcibly reversed the flow. The blazing pressure in his brain relented as it returned to a small orb of hurt, just waiting to explode like the Big Bang at some future time. Sam knew this was temporary, but he didn't care. Dean was here. Dean had found him. Dean still wanted him.

He hadn't noticed the flare of power that had left him but as it came crashing back into him, it burned through his body, causing him to cry out in pain. Dean swept Sam up towards his chest, holding him tight and murmuring nonsense comfort. Sam buried his face into Dean's warmth and let out the tears he had been holding back. He wrapped his arms around Dean's torso and held on to his brother as ugly, violent sobs wracked his body.

Dean plunged a hand into Sam's hair and placatingly stroked Sam's head. His other arm was pressing Sam into his own body, trying to provide comfort any way he could.

"I'm here, Sam. No matter what happened, I'm here. I won't leave you. I promise. I'm here. We'll make this right, I swear..."

Dean wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, but the sun had certainly moved quite a bit. Sam eventually wore himself out, his sobs ebbing into sniffles and then silence. He loosened his grip on Sam and let him slip back down into his lap. His brother was asleep and actually looked peaceful despite the tear stains and snot covering his face. Dean carefully cleaned him off with his shirt and just sat staring at him. Tears forced themselves out of his eyes as he reflected on the past months of uncertainty and pain, his current joy at having Sam back but the sorrow of seeing Sam's state, and the challenge of what was to come. Sam clearly had developed psychic abilities beyond anything they had encountered before and he seemed to have very little control over them. Learning to wield them was going to be difficult, especially because it appeared to be linked to his emotional state.

Dean rubbed his hands over his face. This was going to be insane. He looked down at his brother, simultaneously amazed and horrified. What had Sam been through that would trigger these changes? Missouri had been surprised by his power... How much of that was Sam's innate ability, demon blood, Lucifer, effects from his torture, or something else?

 _One step at a time_ , he chastised himself. Getting Sam back on his feet was his priority. Figuring out his powers would come later. He was lucky to have Sam back at all, and he would do whatever necessary to get Sam back in fighting shape. Whatever that looked like. He wouldn't push Sam away for whatever powers he did or didn't have. Dean had learned his lesson. They were family. Sam was his brother, first and foremost, and above all else. Nothing would get in the way of that ever again.


	2. Accepting Reality

Dean carried his exhausted little brother up to bed and tucked him in. He hoped the long sob session had worn him out enough that he would sleep soundly for a while. Poor kid needed it.

He quietly slipped out of the room and went downstairs to find Bobby. The older hunter was outside clearing sticks and fallen branches from the yard. Dean went out to help him as a pretense for getting his advice.

"It feels so good to walk again. I just had to get out here and do something!" Bobby commented once Dean was close enough. He was smiling but Dean's face was grim. Schooling his expression, he asked "How's Sam?"

Dean sighed as he ran a hand through his hair, unsure where to start.

"That good, huh?" Bobby interjected before Dean could say anything.

"Yeah... I mean, Bobby, he's so messed up, and he has all these powers he can't control."

Bobby paused what he was doing and looked at Dean with intense curiosity. "Like what?"

"Um, well, we already know he's telepathic, but he's not great at keeping his thoughts to himself. He can move things with his mind... Not reliably though. And I tried to grab his arm at one point and he had this like... forcefield around him that I couldn't move past. Who knows what else he can do?"

Bobby nodded thoughtfully then continued gathering sticks. "This doesn't have to be a bad thing, Dean. Before, he could only use his powers with demon blood. Now, he doesn't. So maybe we have to help him and train him to manage them, but I think that will be a lot easier than trying to make him suppress them."

"You want me to encourage his powers?!" Dean was livid.

"It's not a matter of encouraging or not. I think that horse is out of the barn, and it has been for a long time. You just didn't want to accept it."

This conversation was _not_ going the way Dean had anticipated. "How are you so friggin' calm about this? How can you _want_ Sam to keep playing with his powers? It's not right!"

Bobby dropped the pile of wood he was collecting and turned to Dean. "It can't be a coincidence that I got my legs back and you could hear again when he woke up. Sure, this whole thing is crazy and it's gonna take a while to figure out, but I really think this could be helpful in the long run. Imagine a telepathic and telekinetic hunter! And what if he can still pull demons without the blood? You two might be able to pack this Apocalypse up quick!"

Dean's eyes narrowed as he listened. "So that's what this is, you wanna use Sam as a tool?"

Bobby's face contorted in irritation and betrayal. "No, son, of course not. What I'm saying is that I think these changes in Sam are permanent. From what I've read in the journals, it's likely impossible Sam will just be able to put this behind him and forget everything. So I'm telling you to accept Sam for who he is now, powers and trauma included, and stop wishing he'd go back to the way he was before. And you better not try to force him, because that will go about as well as water on a grease fire. Sam's different now, but it doesn't have to be all bad. You're just choosing to see it that way."

Dean absorbed the words and felt them settle on his soul like a thick blanket of suffocating ash. He hadn't even realized it but Bobby's assessment was dead right. Some part of him _was_ hoping they could get their way through this and somehow, he'd get his Sammy back. But he didn't need to read the hunters' journals to know that his hope was a fantasy. He could feel the untampered despair radiating off his little brother like it was a physical phenomenon. Sam was not him; he couldn't unhealthily compartmentalize like Dean had with his memories of Hell. Plus, Dean didn't have psychic abilities to factor into the equation. That probably added a whole layer of complexity he had no way to understand.

"Dean?" Bobby asked, startling the younger hunter out of his reflection.

Dean closed his eyes and let out a heavy breath. "I... I think you're right. I want Sam back the way I remember him but it's not fair to ask that of him. Truth is, I'm scared of what he can do now. We've never seen something like this before. I don't know how to handle it."

"You're not gonna be handling it alone, son. You got me, Missouri, Castiel, Lindsey, Ellen. You have people on your side. We'll figure this out. We always do."

Dean nodded weakly. "I know, I just..."

Bobby slapped Dean's shoulder as he walked away. "Me too, Dean, me too."

* * *

Later in the evening, Dean brought up a bowl of thin soup for his slumbering brother. He sat down in the chair he had practically lived in while waiting for Sam to wake from his coma and put the soup on the nightstand. Sam looked so peaceful sleeping that he was loathe to wake him. But the kid needed to eat. He had a long road to recovery ahead of him.

"Sam?" Dean said quietly, careful not to scare him. "Sammy, c'mon, wake up. Got some food for you." Dean frowned and debated whether he should try shaking him away. Considering how much touch freaked Sam out, he decided against it. "Sammy!" Dean said louder but got no response. Dean chewed on his lip, pondering what to do. If Sam could speak with him telepathically, maybe he could too?

' _Sam! Wake up. Got some grub for ya._ '

Sam's eyes flicked open and glanced around anxiously before settling on Dean. Dean smiled and held the bowl up. _'Bobby made a light chicken soup for you. We gotta start you off slow before moving into real food.'_

Sam blinked at him, surprise decorating his face. _'Y-you're lips aren't moving. Are you—'_

_'Speaking to you with my mind? Hell yeah, I am.'_ Dean grinned impishly, rather pleased with himself for this discovery.

_'How?'_

Dean shrugged. _'Guess you and me are just that connected. I didn't even really have to try.'_

Sam pushed himself up to sitting as he thought about it. He made a 'not bad' face. ' _It doesn't scare you?_ ' Sam asked timidly.

_'Scared? Nah! This is pretty damn cool, honestly. I was kinda jealous you had all the cool powers anyway. So not fair._ ' Sam's body seemed to perk up at the acceptance and the teasing. The soft smile he gave Dean was more than a worthy reward for Dean's recent change of heart. ' _Anyway, eat up and then back to bed. You gotta rest. There's someone who wants to see you tomorrow if you're up for it.'_

_'Lindsey?!'_

Dean nodded and felt a pip of excitement in Sam's mind. _'Yeah, she said Ellen gave her the day off so she's hoping to be here around noon.'_

_'Yeah, I'd like that.'_

' _Good. Okay, lemme help you with this and then we'll get you settled in.'_

Sam reached a thin hand out to Dean's knee. ' _Thanks, Dean. For everything.'_

_'Always, Sammy.'_

* * *

Sam woke of his own volition feeling surprisingly well rested. He turned towards the nightstand and saw Dean passed out in the chair, head hanging uncomfortably. Sam tapped Dean's knee and his brother jolted awake. "Wha-what's going on?"

' _Hey, Dean.'_

"Sammy, hey, how are you feeling?" Dean moved to rub his sore neck.

Sam nodded and sat up. ' _Pretty good, actually.'_

"Ready to see your girlfriend today?" Dean said with a smirk.

' _She's not my girlfriend. But yeah, I'm looking forward to seeing her. I, uh, I'd like a shower first...'_

"Yeah, no problem. I'll have breakfast ready for you when you're done."

_'Thanks, Dean_.'

"Don't mention it." He ruffled Sam's hair and stood up, smiling at how right this felt.

Sam flipped the covers back and forced himself out of bed. He saw all the items he'd need for his shower resting on two towels on the dresser. He smiled internally, touched that Dean would be so thoughtful. He gathered up the toiletries in the towels and made his way to the bathroom. He moved frustratingly slow but knew he had to build his strength back up. Once inside, he relieved himself then put everything down on the closed toilet lid. Glancing in the mirror, Sam noted that he barely had any scruff which meant Dean must have been shaving him. He also noticed that his hair was not oily and unkempt, so Dean must have been washing it. Had he washed the rest of him? Had Dean seen his body? He probably had. Dean had probably seen the fleshy tale of his failure and abuse. Shame prickled his skin and he wanted to peel it all off. But there was nothing to assist him in this act: the bathroom was devoid of razors, scissors, or anything sharp; even his fingernails had been cut extremely short.

Instead he focused on cleaning himself up. He went through the motions detachedly. He couldn't remember the last time he had brushed his teeth or his hair. Back in Oklahoma, he guessed. He allowed himself to linger in these tasks, subconsciously avoiding the next step of the process. He brushed his teeth to the point where his gums were bleeding and his hair such that a large nest of hair decorated the hairbrush.

He couldn't avoid it anymore. He had to face himself and how his body had been altered. But not quite yet. He closed his eyes as he shakily stripped off the t-shirt. Feeling blindly for the rim of the bathtub, he sat down and pulled off the sweatpants. Cool air kissed his skin and it was more than the cold that had him shivering. He remained there for a while, unable to remove his final layer of protection against the world. He dreaded seeing his skin, a living history of what was done to him, of what he had deserved. He slipped his thumbs under the hem of his boxers and felt many other phantom fingers doing the same thing. He froze momentarily then forced himself to keep going. He was safe. Dean was here. No one would hurt him. He slid his boxers down and flung them into the corner with the other clothes. He wrapped his arms around himself and gathered the courage to open his eyes.

Said courage took its time.

When he finally opened his eyes, the first thing he saw were countless scars crisscrossing his thighs. He honestly couldn't place all of them and he was sort of grateful for that. He kicked out his legs and saw similar patterns on his shins. Angry red circles glared at him from the tops of his feet and he had to push down his nausea as memories of his crucifixion surfaced. He checked his wrists and found matching scars. Moving his arms had allowed him to see that even his genitals were not free from lasting evidence of torture. He pushed those memories down hard and scanned his arms. Rings of scar tissue braceleted his wrists, a hundred different restraints patterning his torn skin. His fingernails were marred and irregular, clear signs of malnutrition present. Thick red depressions indicated where fingers had been chopped off. His elbows and upper arms were pitted with myriad pinpricks, physical memories of needles pushed in too hard, too deep, too fast.

His torso was a warzone. He remembered getting the wards, but it seemed as though they had been recently applied. Did Dean and Bobby do that? To keep Lucifer out? The thought of Lucifer caused an unpleasant tightening in his chest and made the newest scars flare painfully. He brought his hand up to trace the marks gouging down from his shoulder to the bottom of his ribcage. He recalled forcing Lucifer out his body in his head and how Lucifer's true form had clung to him and tore into him like this with glittering, obsidian talons. Sam blinked hard at the thought that those wounds had manifested on his physical body. He didn't even what to think about what that meant. His hand moved to his throat and he felt the remnants of the shock collar burn there and he swallowed painfully. He didn't even need to check if the wards on his back were still there because he could feel them anytime his body shifted, the persistent tug of the taut tissue a constant whispering reminder of his crimes and punishment.

Breathing long, slow, intentional breaths helped him calm his racing heart. Shower. He needed to shower. He turned and twisted the tap on. The water quickly turned warm and he forced himself into the cleansing stream. Who was he kidding though? Maybe a shower could wash off the physical filth, but his soul was a sewer of grimy moral failings. Nothing could remove the indelible stain of his sins, from the traumatic killing of the kid Antichrist Jesse Turner, to his participation in his own abuse, to his murder of demon meatsuits while he drank them dry. At some point in his mental wanderings, he had slid down and was sobbing into his scarred knees. Not that he had a choice in the matter, but he didn't want to be here. He didn't want to be alive.

A soft knock on the door derailed his train of thought. ' _Sammy? You okay in there?_ ' Dean sounded very concerned.

' _Y-yeah. I'll be out soon.'_

' _Let me know if you need a hand_ ,' Dean offered.

_'I'm good, but, uh, thanks.'_

He heard Dean move away from the door and he forced himself through a quick cleaning ritual. Wash hair, scrub body, rinse off. All with eyes closed. He'd open them someday. But that day didn't have to be today.

* * *

It didn't take long for Dean to prepare a small bowl of oatmeal with cinnamon for Sam. He figured his brother would take the usual quick shower he used to take and was surprised to hear that the water wasn't even running when he brought the food up. He put his ear to the door and listened as Sam spent an inordinate amount of time brushing his teeth and hair. He heard Sam eventually move to take his clothes off but the shower didn't turn on as he expected. He stood there wondering what Sam could be doing when he heard shallow, hyperventilating breaths from his brother and he suddenly understood. This was probably the first time Sam had seen his body clean in God knows how long. He was likely looking at all his wards and scars. The thought pained Dean and he wished again he could scrub all those marks off Sam's body. Another ten minutes went by before he heard Sam take several deep breaths and then start the shower. It only took about 45 seconds for the sobbing to start and Dean slid down to the floor, letting his head rest against the door. He longed to go in and console Sam but he knew Sam wouldn't react well to being intruded upon in such a vulnerable state. Anger threaded through him at the thought of his fierce brother brought to his literal knees by these fucking hunters. God help them if, no, _when_ , he found them.

He waited the twenty or so minutes it took for the sobbing to quiet down considerably, then stood and knocked once lightly.

' _Sammy? You okay in there?_ ' He tried to keep his worry out of his voice.

' _Y-yeah. I'll be out soon.'_ The hesitation and brittleness in Sam's response piqued his concern though.

' _Let me know if you need a hand_ ,' he said, knowing that Sam wouldn't take it, but wanting to offer his help nonetheless.

_'I'm good, but, uh, thanks.'_ Sam sounded a little more sure of himself and that was a step in the right direction.

Dean sighed and went downstairs to heat up the food, hoping Sam would join him soon.

* * *

The only indication anything had happened in the shower was the lingering red puffiness around Sam's eyes. He had otherwise dressed himself in jeans and a flannel and gotten himself to the kitchen. Sam silently slid into the chair with the most walls behind it. Dean didn't miss it but decided not to say anything. He had the feeling that Sam wouldn't feel safe for a long time, if ever again.

"I made you oatmeal with some cinnamon for flavoring. I know it's boring, but we'll get you back to eating rabbit food in no time." He set the bowl down in front of Sam with a small spoon. "You want water or milk to drink?"

Sam flicked his gaze up at Dean and his eyes held an unreadable message. Sam looked down by the time he responded. ' _Water, please. From the tap is fine._ '

Dean did as he was told but wondered why Sam felt the need to specify. Man, there were so many new things he had to learn about his brother. And there were so many things he wanted to say to Sam but he felt if he opened his mouth, it would all come spilling out like an avalanche. If Sam's shower crying was anything to go by, the kid was still extremely fragile.

"So, what would you like to do today? Lindsey should be here around lunch time."

Sam shrugged. ' _I don't really want to do anything... Maybe chill and watch TV? I, uh, kinda would like to just enjoy not being_ there.'

Not being with psychotic hunters who tortured and abused him. Sure, Dean got that loud and clear. "Yeah, that's fine. There are more episodes of that show you liked, uh, Bones, that you probably haven't seen."

' _That sounds good. Will you watch it with me?'_

Dean had to suppress the urge to squish his giant little brother in a hug. "Yeah, Sammy, of course."

* * *

Sam sat in eager anticipation of Lindsey's arrival. The relief he felt upon hearing she was alright was a soothing balm to his heart and he was excited to see her. He was waiting by the door, ready to let her in the moment she came up the porch. Bobby and Dean had made themselves scarce, claiming they had stuff to do. Sam appreciated their unspoken intention of giving him privacy, as he expected his reunion with Lindsey to be emotional and tear-filled.

He heard a vehicle pull up to the house and he stood up. He checked himself briefly in a mirror, trying to decide if his gaunt features and red-streaked eye would frighten her or not. He figured he probably wasn't as scary as the baykok so he should stop worrying. Footsteps sounded on the stairs and he moved towards the door. There was only one knock before he swung the door open, pasting his best imitation of a smile on his face to greet her.

"Heya, Bob— Holy hell! Well if it isn't my lucky day!"

Sam leant back in surprise, a buff, bald man with a beard standing where Lindsey should be. He looked slightly familiar but Sam couldn't place him.

"You're that demonic freak Tim and Reggie had a while back! I didn't know they were doing house calls..."

The memory of the man — Justin — as the first hunter to attack him at a hunter cage match supplied itself. Demons had killed his mother and he held Sam personally responsible. He'd inflicted a number of vicious wounds and was particularly fond of his knife.

Justin stepped forward, a gleam in his eye, and Sam staggered back, his heart rate skyrocketing and his throat closing up. "Lemme guess, Bobby's studying ya, trying to see what makes you tick? I wonder if he'd let me help... What do you think? Maybe we can open ya up and see if there are any clues on the inside?"

Sam shook his head fiercely, his hands held out defensively.

"Not gonna answer me? Or you can't?"

Sam shook his head again and Justin grinned. "Good. No one will hear you scream, then." He pulled out his switchblade and advanced rapidly, causing Sam to stumble and essentially pin himself against Bobby's desk.

"Aww, laying yourself out for me? So thoughtful!" He sprawled Sam across the desk using several swift punches to the head and straddled his legs. Justin pulled Sam up by his collar, his head flopping to the side listlessly. He captured Sam's arms and zip tied them behind his back, the plastic cutting off circulation. He pushed his captive's shoulders down, smiling as Sam's head hit the hardwood desktop with a solid _thunk_. As he talked, he used his knife to cut through Sam's shirts. "Ever since I saw you that day, I've been just itching to get my hands on you again, make you suffer the way you made my mama suffer. Demons cut her up nice and slow, trying to get information. Thing is, she didn't even know where I was, but they gutted her anyway. Your turn, you fucking traitor."

Justin plunged his blade into the hollow of the demon spawn's throat and drug it down to the edge of his jeans, smiling at the prolific bloom of red that rose to meet him.

* * *

Dean was taking a long, hot shower, trying to work that kink out of his neck from falling asleep in the chair. He was also enjoying the thought of Sam smiling again once Lindsey arrived. He knew the woman was sweet on Sam and while he wasn't sure the feeling was mutual, he still thought it would cheer Sam up. It was hard to be perpetually upset with Lindsey around. She was good-hearted and bright-eyed, always willing to help out. They needed more people like that in their lives. He was about to put shampoo in his hair when he felt a sudden feeling of terror inundate his consciousness. His knees buckled with the strength of the sensation and he had to throw his hands out against the wall to support himself.

_What the fuck?!_ he thought to himself before the realization hit him with all the force of a frying pan to the face. _Sam!_

_'Sam!'_ Dean called out with his mind and his panic spiked when he got no response. ' _Sammy, I'm comin'!'_

He didn't even take the time to wash the shampoo off his hands, instead turning the water off and barreling out of the shower. He shoved his dripping legs into his jeans and wiped his hands off the best he could while running out of the bathroom. He pulled his knife out of the pocket and flung himself down the stairs. The feeling of fear was growing and forming a physical pressure in his mind. He winced against it and forced himself to keep going. He heard movement in the living room and crept silently there, knowing which boards creaked and which could bear his weight without noise. He turned the corner as a wave of pain struck Dean like a freight train while he watched a stranger carve up his little brother.

Without hesitation, Dean launched himself towards the intruder and tackled him to the side. The man yelped as he went down, trying to swing the knife to defend himself. Dean blocked him and tried to wrench the man's wrist but his hands were too slippery from the damn shampoo to get a good grip. The other man wriggled out from under him and retreated to the other side of the desk.

"Who the fuck are you?" the intruder spat, like Dean was the one who shouldn't be there.

"I'm Dean Winchester and that's my brother Sam. I strongly suggest you get the fuck outta here before I make what you did to Sam look like child's play." The growl in his voice left no room for argument.

"The Winchesters, huh? Yeah, I heard of you. Heard you two were some unstoppable duo, but I gotta say, your brother makes a real nice punching bag."

Dean's jaw clenched in anger as he tried to plan how to reach the man. Of course Sam picked that moment to try to get up. Panting heavily, Sam twisted on his side and tried to use his currently non-existent core strength to lift his torso up. Using the hand holding the knife, Dean motioned for Sam to lay back down. "Stay out of it, Sam," Dean barked. Instead, Sam's eyes focused on the blade in front of him and he scooched backwards on the desk, right into the intruder, who took full advantage of the new situation.

He put Sam in a headlock and put heavy pressure on his neck. "You know he can't die, right? The Devil brings him back. Doesn't mean we can't make his life Hell though." With that, he stabbed the knife into Sam's right ear and twisted.

A piercing cry shattered Dean's consciousness and he fell to his knees, the ability to control his muscles suddenly stolen from him. A split second later, bright light and a violent surge of power swept through the house. Dean felt himself thrown against the wall and pinned there. He could barely hear the sound of breaking glass all around him over the screaming in his head and the shouts from the intruder. His own voice joined the din as his brain became completely unable to deal with the furious stimuli consuming him. The telltale thump of a body shook the floor and the fever pitch of Sam's fear dropped a few notches.

Dean opened his eyes to see that everything had been blown away from Sam, who sat panting and wide-eyed on the now-clean desk with his freed hands folded over his middle. Motion caught his eye and he saw the curtains billowing in the breeze. Scanning the room, he realized all the windows had been blown out. Finding he could move, he stood up slowly and cautiously approached Sam, hands held out to the side.

The back door burst open and Bobby was shouting. "Sam? Dean? Are you alr—" Bobby stopped as soon as he entered the room and saw Dean's hand shooing him away. The living room was the picture of chaos and in the middle sat Sam, bleeding and terrified.

"Sammy? It's me, Dean, your brother. You with me?"

Sam's unsteady eyes blinked a few times then he nodded shakily. _'Wi-with yo-you,'_ he stuttered, clearly disoriented. Dean figured he had a decent concussion. Just what they fucking needed.

Dean's gaze found the other man and was relieved he seemed to be unconscious. "Who is that?"

_'Hu-hunter. Justin. M-my fault demons ki-killed his mother. He l-likes knives.'_

At that, Dean remembered the way Justin had cut into Sam. He went to examine Sam and raised his hands but stopped himself. "Can I touch you? I need to look at the wound."

Sam seemed woozy and not completely there as his eyes lazily followed Dean's movements. ' _Can t-touch, but please don't h-hurt me, I didn't m-mean to..._ '

Dean gently rested a hand on Sam's knee. "Sam, I'm not mad at you. He was attacking you and you defended yourself. Nothing wrong with that."

' _Wrong..._ ' Sam echoed.

"What is?"

' _I am_...'

Dean huffed in frustration. He looked down and saw all the blood trickling out between Sam's fingers. "Fuck, Sammy, we don't have time to argue about this. I need to sew this up." Sam shrugged limply. "Bobby, get the first aid kit. Sam, is it okay if Bobby comes over here? He's going to help you."

_'Nuffin' can help me...'_

"Dammit, Sam," Dean huffed angrily, his emotions flaring at seeing how destroyed Sam was.

Bobby returned and the two cleaned the wound to the best of their abilities.

"I don't think it punctured any organs, so just stitching it up should be good," Bobby proclaimed. Sam flinched at the new voice.

' _Jus' take 'm, take 'em all,_ ' Sam murmured and it took Dean a few seconds to realize that he must be referencing when they were harvesting organs from him.

"No, no, no, Sam, no, we're not, oh God, we're not taking anything from you. We're fixin' you up, I promise," Dean soothed while they placed the first sutures.

' _Don' lie. Lu'fer says bad t' lie._ '

_Lucifer says it's bad to lie?! Jesus fucking Christ_. Dean felt way out of his depth. "Not lying, Sammy. We're helping. I need you to trust me."

' _Jus' get I' o'er wif, please. I'll be g-good. Try not t' scream.'_

Dean felt his eyes water as he understood that he was asking an impossible task of Sam. Sam couldn't trust him. Fear had taken up residence where trust should be. That would take so much more than stitches and antiseptic to fix.

* * *

Once they had Sam mended and back in his room, they turned their attention to Sam's attacker. The man was still unconscious by Bobby's desk.

"What should we do with him?" Bobby asked.

Dean's jaw ticked in anger. "Not let him go, if that's what you're thinking."

"Dean—"

"Bobby, Sam told me this guy, Justin, held Sam responsible for demons killing his mother and took it out on Sam. Carved him up, just like he was doing now. I can't let that slide."

Bobby gulped uncomfortably. "You can't kill him—"

"I wasn't saying kill him, just teach him a lesson. People need to know that hurting Sam is off limits again."

"Okay, I can see that. But you sure you can restrain yourself?"

Dean growled at the implication but demurred. "Fine, we'll do it together. That way you can stop me before I go too far."

"Deal. You, uh, wanna tell Lindsey what's going on?"

_Fuck._ Dean had forgotten all about her. "Shit, yeah, I'll call her right now." Dean took his phone out of his pocket and dialed her number. She picked up almost immediately.

"Hey Dean! I'm about 10 minutes away."

"Hey Linds, I'm sorry, but do you think you could come by tomorrow, or even later? A hunter showed up and recognized Sam, and uh, well, it kinda turned into a thing."

"Oh no! Is Sam okay?"

"The guy got Sam pretty good with a knife and we had to put in over two dozen stitches. He also got a mild concussion."

"Dammit! Let me come over and help take care of him."

"No, it's alright. Look, find a place to stay in town and I'll pay for it. Sam does want to see you, I just don't think now is the best time."

"Why are you shutting me out, Dean?"

He hesitated and decided he owed her the truth. "The hunter is still here. We're about to bring him downstairs. I don't really want you here for that."

"Oh. I see. I mean, give him hell Dean, he deserves it. But tomorrow sounds good, too. Let me know, okay? Ellen told me I could come back whenever. And she wants to see you three soon, too."

"I'll keep that in mind. Thanks, Lindsey."

"Yup. See you soon."

"You, too. Bye." He hung up and approached Justin. "Panic room?"

"Makes the most sense."

"Alright, I'll carry him if you open the doors."

Dean scooped up the smaller man and Bobby led the way, opening the door to the basement and the panic room.

"Can you pull the chair out so I can set him down there?"

Bobby nodded and entered the panic room to get the chair. Dean dropped Justin and slammed the iron door shut and locked it.

"Dean?! What the hell?!" Bobby pounded on the door. "What do you think you're doing, you goddam idjit?!"

"I'm doing what needs to be done, Bobby. Ain't no point you feeling guilty for it, 'cause I know I won't."

Dean dragged the man to another part of the basement, as far away from the panic room as he could get.

"Dean, don't do this. You know it's not right. Sam wouldn't want you to do this."

"I'm not doin' this for Sam!" Dean shouted back as he opened up the Pandora's box of his rage. "I'm doin' this because someone needs to fucking pay for what they did to my Sammy," he growled to himself. He tied Justin to a chair and waited for him to wake up.

Bobby kept yelling, trying everything he could to convince Dean not to follow through on whatever his plan was. But Dean wasn't listening. He was leant against a workbench staring at Justin's switchblade. Sam's tacky blood still clung to the gleaming edge. More blood that Dean failed to prevent from leaving Sam's battered body.

Justin started to move so Dean stepped forward and lightly patted his cheek, encouraging him to wake up.

"What the..." Justin struggled against his bindings but found he had very little wiggle room.

"Morning, sunshine," Dean hissed, twirling the switchblade.

"Dean, right? Dean, you gotta understand, man, he's the reason my mom is dead. Wouldn't you want a little revenge, too?"

"I get it man, I do," Dean replied casually. "But no one fucks with my little brother and gets away with it. See, he just woke up yesterday after being gone for nine months and you stole that from me." He circled the man and dragged the blade loosely around his neck.

"He— he can't die. He'll be fine."

"Fine? You think you'd be fine if someone beat and murdered you every day for months on end?"

"N-no..."

"Then why would Sammy be fine?!" Dean roared.

"Please, don't hurt me... I didn't know who he was..."

Dean stopped in front of him and used the blade to slowly cut through his shirt, just like he probably did to Sam. "You know, that's the second time I've heard that excuse. 'I didn't know, I didn't know he was your brother...' like somehow that makes it better? You go around torturing all the monsters you hunt?"

"No... But my mama—"

"A demon killed my mom, too. And my dad. And led to my brother's death, which led to mine. So I get the demon-killed-my-whatever sob story. Doesn't give you the right to do what you did."

"Wait, you really did die? I'd heard rumors, but..."

"Yep. Dragged down to Hell, whole nine yards. And you know what happened while I was down there?" Dean put the blade on the hollow of Justin's throat. The man didn't dare move for fear of Dean accidentally cutting him. "I became Hell's top torturer. Gold star student. It used to really tear me up inside, you know? I hated it about myself, that I had given in, I had failed. But maybe every cloud does have a silver lining, because now I know how to do this..."

With lightning fast movements, Dean stabbed the blade into several trigger points on Justin's torso, expertly slicing non-vital nerves and inflicting the most pain for the least amount of damage. He grinned ferally as the man screamed until his voice became ragged.

"I mean, granted, I couldn't actually kill the souls down there, but human anatomy is human anatomy and ten years is a long time to learn."

"Please, no more, I won't ever come near you again, I promise," his captive panted, tiny rivulets of blood from each wound glimmering in the light as his chest rose and fell in quick succession.

Dean paced back and forth in front of him. "Did Sam ever say something like that while you were slicing into him? He ever beg for your mercy?

He didn't reply and Dean slashed his left cheek. "Answer me!"

"I... I don't know! There were a bunch of us! It was hard to hear over all the shouting. I just wanted him to hurt the way he made me hurt!"

"I'm simply returning the favor," Dean snarled and sank the knife into his right eye. The resulting scream must have drowned out the telltale flutter of wings because it came as quite the shock to Dean when a strong hand grabbed his and pulled him away. He turned his head and saw Castiel, face stern and determined. "What the hell, Cas?"

"I could ask the same of you, Dean." Castiel took the knife and cut the ropes binding Justin. The man was whimpering and babbling about his eye. Even with a hand covering it, blood was seeping down his face. "Consider your debts paid, as an eye for an eye will make the whole world blind." Castiel glared at Dean then back to the man. "Leave here and never return. If you pursue either Sam or Dean, I will be honor bound to smite you. Do you understand?"

Justin nodded vigorously.

"Then go, and pray we never see each other again."

The man gave Dean a terrified look then ran up the stairs. They could hear his car start shortly after and speed away.

Dean turned to the angel and let everything loose, getting right up in Castiel's stoic face. "Goddamit Cas! Whose fucking side are you on?! That man tortured Sam, twice! Probably killed him the first time. And you're willing to just let him go with a fucking warning? Some guardian angel you are!" Dean stormed past him and up the stairs, slamming the basement door shut.

"I am not your guardian angel," Castiel called patiently. Getting no response, he walked to the panic room and released Bobby.

"Thanks for coming when I called," Bobby offered. "I didn't know what else to do."

Castiel was immediately confused by Bobby's sudden gain of stature. "You're walking again?"

"Oh, yeah, that. I think it's related to Sam waking up."

"Sam's awake?!"

Bobby smiled sheepishly. "Guess we haven't really kept you in the loop. Come on upstairs and I'll fill you in."

Upon reaching the main floor, Bobby looked around for Dean but he was nowhere to be found. He checked the driveway and saw the Impala was gone. Bobby sighed and grabbed a bottle of whiskey for himself. He understood Dean's motivation, but what was that saying about not becoming a monster in order to defeat a monster?

"You were saying about Sam?" Castiel reminded him gently.

He took a sip of the amber anesthetic and nodded. "So, yesterday..."

* * *

Dean gunned it down a backroad, desperately needing to bleed off some his murderous intent. He knew he had been wrong to do what he did, but he didn't care. If it was anyone but Sammy, he may have thought twice. But he watched that bastard cut Sam open with glee on his stupid, smug face. It was unforgivable.

He understood it was bad to let the torturer in him take hold, but he couldn't find it in himself to give a shit. He hadn't been lying when he told Justin maybe there was a silver lining here. Given the choice, he wouldn't repeat his stint in Hell, but he didn't regret all that he had learned. It made him dangerous and unpredictable.

_Kinda like Sam_ , his mind supplied. Actually, a lot like Sam. In fact, if they were able to harness Sam's powers, Bobby was right, they'd be pretty unstoppable. The Apocalypse definitely took precedent, but if they happened to run into those sons of bitches that had captured Sam, well, Dean was ready to embrace both his own torture and Sam's new powers with open arms if it meant repaying even an ounce of the hell they'd rained down on his Sammy.

Dean grinned as he pushed the gas pedal down further, a new hunt spurring him onwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, Dean, I don't think that's what Bobby meant by "accept Sam's powers"...
> 
> "Fear had taken up residence where trust should be." line inspired by Avatar: The Last Airbender. Credit where credit is due.
> 
> Comments/reviews/kudos are love!


	3. Righting Wrongs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had the most vicious writer's block for this chapter up until a few days ago. So sorry for the long wait.
> 
> Thank you so much to bob, Yassy30, Wayward_Spiderboi, redfoxshadow, TheLittleRedWhoCouldWrite, ItsTones, J, musicalgirl4474, and putowtin for your lovely, supportive comments, and everyone who left kudos. You spoil me. They encourage me to keep trying even when the story is being fickle. I'm hoping the next chapters will flow a little easier. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Bobby had squirreled himself away in a back room in the garage with the intent to keep his research as secret as possible. He hadn't told Dean about the diamond of darkness that was embedded in his brother. He didn't want to tell him if he could help it. Now that he understood what it was, he was able to find other references to it. And what he found terrified him. Some Coptic sources claimed that Jesus was able to perform his miracles using the 'Jewel of Heaven' which held 'that which came from Earth but belonged in Heaven.' A soul, no doubt. He found multiple spells which required a 'stone-trapped soul', including spells for resurrection, necromancy, and the summoning and control of minor gods.

Most of his inquiries to other hunters had been returned with no information and a wish of luck, but three had given him leads to research and two had seemed very interested in why Bobby would want to know about such an artifact. It made Bobby's blood run cold to think someone might come after Sam for this thing and cut it out of him. Idly, he wondered if removing the stone would inactivate the ward. Perhaps they could try and see what happens? But how was he going to convince Dean to let his brother out of his sight long enough for heart surgery? And how would they even find a heart surgeon to do this?

 _Dammit! What a fucking mess..._ he thought with frustration.

Out of nowhere, a loud cry of pain followed by a physical shockwave rocked through him. He heard the shattering of glass as all the windows exploded. He got up and ran towards the house, seeing an unfamiliar car in the driveway. He opened the door and called for his boys. By the time he arrived, Dean was trying to approach Sam, who sat disoriented in the middle of the destruction. Dean waved away Bobby's words, trying to keep Sam focused and grounded.

Bobby saw a body on the floor and recognized it as a hunter he occasionally helped, Justin Fischer. It didn't take him long to put two and two together. Justin had probably hurt Sam at some point in the past and this was Sam's reaction to either seeing Justin again or Justin attacking him. Regardless of the situation, Sam clearly had a massive amount of power at his fingertips that he had little to no control over. Training Sam was going to be one helluva challenge. Protecting him was going to be even harder.

Dean called for him to fetch the first aid kit and he had to stow his troublesome thoughts. He'd have plenty of time to agonize over this later.

* * *

Bobby wasn't pleased about what Dean had done to Justin, but he also understood it. Dean's affection was a more visceral beast than the normal person's: you hurt Sammy, you pay dearly, maybe with your life. Bobby got that. But judging from the number of hunter cage matches and other beatings Sam had suffered through, Dean would single-handedly wipe out half the hunting community if he maimed or killed everyone who had hurt Sam. That's not to say they didn't deserve some payback, but Dean wasn't rational when it came to his little brother. Hell, that's what had gotten them in this mess in the first place: Dean being unable to let his brother go.

His ruminations were interrupted by timid calls from the younger Winchester. ' _Dean? ... Bobby? ... Anyone?'_

"I'll be right there, Sam!" Bobby answered and hurried upstairs.

* * *

Waking up with a concussion was not a pleasant experience, by any stretch of the imagination. The wisps of sunlight that managed to evade the drawn curtain stabbed daggers into his brain. He wanted nothing more than to pull the covers over his head and drift off to peaceful nothingness again. But an even more unpleasant sensation was begging for his attention and he couldn't ignore it any longer.

 _Water... Oh God, need water..._ His tongue was glued to the roof of his mouth and his lips were painful to separate. The taste of dehydration clung to the inside of his mouth and he hated it. It was a feeling all too familiar to him and he struggled to push away the associated memories that inundated his mind. Pain flared along his chest and he quickly suppressed the memories that came washing in with the physical suffering.

He reached out weakly with his mind, trying to find his family. ' _Dean? ... Bobby? ... Anyone?'_

A few seconds later, he heard Bobby yell back "I'll be right there, Sam!" and he sagged into the bed with relief. Someone was here for him, someone he could trust.

Bobby came bustling into the room, eyes full of concern. "Hey, Sam, how are you feeling?"

Sam strained to provide him with a weak smile. ' _'m okay. Need water._ '

"On it." Bobby snatched the empty glass on the nightstand and dashed to the bathroom to fill it up. Upon his return, he helped Sam sit up and drink the whole glass. "You want another?"

Sam weakly shook his head as he licked his lips. It felt so good to be able to ask for something as simple as water and not have to exchange something for the privilege. He tried to force his vocal cords to work so he could express his gratitude, but was rewarded with some painful squeaky groans. _'Thanks, Bobby,_ ' he said instead.

Bobby smiled at him affectionately. "I'm bettin' you got a hell of a headache. You want anything for it? Or for your chest?"

Sam shrugged, not unused to this level of discomfort. _'Light hurts the most.'_

Bobby glanced over at the window, observing how the curtains didn't block out everything. "Alright, I'll be right back."

Bobby returned with a blanket, some nails, a hammer, and duct tape. Within a few minutes, he had the light completely blocked, with only the light from the hallway intruding into the room. The darkness made the glow of Sam's left eye significantly brighter and Bobby found himself unable to look away from it. It increased the apprehension he was already feeling while thinking about Sam's soul situation.

Somehow Sam picked up on it and of course interpreted it the wrong way. He curled into the wall, away from Bobby. ' _Are you scared of me?_ '

Bobby blinked in surprise. "Scared of you? No, son. I'm scared _for_ you. Big difference."

' _What's there to be scared of now? I'm safe with you._ '

Bobby furrowed his brow in confusion. "How can you say that? Not three hours ago someone was carvin' into ya downstairs!" The surge of anger that accompanied the words caught him off guard and he had to quell his rage. He couldn't let anyone hurt his boy under his roof again. One time was too goddamn many.

' _But I'm alright, aren't I?'_

Bobby shook his head. "I would hardly call what happened 'alright'. We had to stitch you up on my desk!"

Sam shrugged again, face stoic. Or maybe it was numbness. Bobby decided he didn't want to know which. ' _It's all relative. Way better than what used to happen._ '

Bobby swallowed painfully. "I know, Sam, I'm so sorry. I feel like it's all my fault. I sent those hunters... I didn't even think something like this could happen...Had I known—"

' _You couldn't have. This is in no way your fault. If anything, I deserve this!"_

Bobby's expression immediately shifted to one of intense anger and Sam flinched away on reflex. "I don't ever wanna hear that from you again, boy. Sure, you fucked up, more than most, maybe, but that in no way means you _deserved_ to suffer what you went through. You hear me?" Sam nodded resolutely, though it seemed to Bobby it was more out of fear than agreement. "And you better not pull that on your brother, either, 'cause that will give him a damn heart attack."

Sam blinked at him, his expression unreadable. ' _Where is Dean? I can't... sense him..._ '

Bobby huffed in irritation. "He's, uh, he went out for a drive," he answered evasively.

_'Did he go after that hunter?'_

Bobby considered saying something other than the truth but it felt like Sam's eyes were burrowing into his very being. "He tried to. He was gonna mess 'im up pretty good but your angel friend was able to stop him."

 _Angel friend – Lucifer?!_ Sam thought with panic, before realizing he meant Castiel.

The thought of Castiel raised some hazy memories into the front of his mind. ' _Bobby... What, uh, happened? How am I here?_ '

"You don't remember?"

' _My memories are kinda jumbled and patchy right now..._ ' Sam admitted.

Bobby sighed and ran his hand through his beard. "Well, Dean was able to track down the hunters that had you. He had almost gotten you when you were kidnapped by some demons. They took you to Detroit where they were supposed to give you to Lucifer. Dean called Castiel and they followed you. By the time Dean found you, you'd already drained a couple of demons and—"

' _A couple?!'_ Sam's already pale face blanched further.

"Yeah, Dean said four or five..."

 _'You need to get me to the panic room!'_ Sam threw the covers back, frantic.

Bobby put his hands up. "It's alright, Sam. You've already detoxed. That was weeks ago."

' _Weeks?_ ' Sam's face clouded with fear. _'I don't remember any of it..._ '

"Probably best you don't..."

' _I need to know. Please, tell me._ '

"Sam, I don't think—"

 _'Bobby!_ ' The fear morphed into irritation and Bobby felt something pressing against his head.

"Okay, fine. When you were juiced up demon blood, your eyes were black and you gave Dean the option of letting you walk away a semi-demon or killing you to prove he could put you out of your misery if the human side of you surfaced again. It was torture for him, but he did it, he shot you."

Sam nodded slightly, his throat convulsing with anxious swallowing. But he didn't respond at all so Bobby continued.

"And then you woke up again while he was driving back here. You tried to leave, Dean didn't want to let you go, so then you tried to kill him." Sam's eyes got wide and he started wringing his hands. "He ended up having to hit you with the car and... well, that was horrible. He got you back here and we pumped your stomach and put you in the panic room. Demon-you put up a helluva fight but eventually he went under and you came to, but were pretty unresponsive. Dean had the bright idea to go to Missouri Moseley and try to reach you psychically."

' _Wait, that really was Dean I heard then?_ '

"Heard when?"

Sam looked down at the blanket and seemed wholly focused on a loose thread. ' _When Lucifer almost... There was so little of me left that he didn't even need my consent... He could just take what he wanted... But then I heard Dean's voice and it gave me whatever I needed to fight back._ '

"Are you saying Lucifer actually possessed you, at least for a bit?!" _This was way too close for comfort!_

Sam shrugged, still looking down. ' _I think so? There was a moment where I felt like... I had wings and I was hearing his thoughts and I thought they were my own... Maybe that's why I have this,_ ' Sam looked up slightly and pointed to his eye. ' _Maybe I'm marked now, a used vessel..._ '

"But you still have all your wards, he shouldn't be able to touch you."

_'Shouldn't, but who knows what Lucifer is capable of. He's brought me back more times than I can count, even with the warding.'_

Bobby took a breath in and out, seeming to hesitate. "I actually wanna talk to you about your warding. Do you think you're up for that?"

Sam paled again and scrunched in closer to the wall. ' _What do you want to know?'_

"We're trying to figure out how to reverse them, but there aren't any details on that in the journals—"

Sam's head snapped up but he couldn't make himself look Bobby in the eye. ' _The journals. What do they say?_ '

"Mostly just describes your torture and recovery... Seems like they were trying to find a weakness, something Lucifer couldn't fix."

 _'Anything else?_ '

Bobby creased his brow. "Uh, some mentions of your powers... Why does it matter?"

Sam swallowed hard and looked away, the phantom of relief swelling through him. Bobby didn't know about the... other things that had happened. They didn't know how dirty he was, how many hands had touched him, how he had been used, how he had been—

His vision started to black out and he realized distantly it was because he was hyperventilating.

"Sam? Sam, come on, calm down!" Bobby urged, moving forward to console Sam with a hand on his shaking shoulder. The moment they came into contact, Sam yelped and recoiled, pushing himself as far away from Bobby as possible. He cut off his own sound of panic and it died down to a whimper.

' _Please, no more, I can't, no more, please..._ ' Sam begged and the absolute desperation, along with the way he was trembling, brought tears to Bobby's eyes.

"Son, I'm not gonna hurt you, I promise."

' _They always say that, always, it won't hurt, but it does, every time._ '

"What wrong, Sam? Hey, talk to me, I want to help. What hurts?" Bobby reached out again and grabbed Sam's wrist.

Violent pain erupted at the point of contact and Sam turned to Bobby, fear painting the young man's features. ' _Don't, no, please, I can't..._ ' Bobby let go and Sam drew his hand in towards his chest and cradled it there, rocking slightly.

Bobby scrubbed a hand down his face. He had no idea what had precipitated this or what to do to stop it. "Everything's fine, Sam, you're out. They can't hurt you any more, I promise." The young man seemed locked in his own head and he wondered if maybe he needed to order Sam to stop. "Hey, freak," Bobby growled. "Cut it out, right now! We ain't got time for your snivelin'! Fucking stop it!"

It only made Sam hunch further into himself and Bobby sighed. Of course it wouldn't be that easy. Sam curled his knees up to his chest impossibly tight and his fingers were diving into his calves. Had Dean not trimmed his nails, Bobby was sure he'd be drawing blood. As it were, Sam would probably have some decent bruises. "Sam, hey, you gotta stop that," he softened his voice and reached towards him again. Sam didn't seem to see him but the moment his hands touched Sam's shoulders, Sam let out a visceral scream and the lightbulbs in the room and hallway shattered. "Okay, that's enough. Time to get your brother in here."

Bobby went downstairs to get his cellphone, a flashlight, and replacement lightbulbs. Careful to avoid the broken glass in the hallway, he changed out the bulb, cursing as it blinked on right in his face. He returned to Sam's room and shone the flashlight towards the lamp and moved towards it. He stopped. Something was wrong. He couldn't see Sam in his peripheral vision. He swung the flashlight towards the bed but it was empty. Searching the rest of the room proved equally fruitless. _Fuck_. Dean was gonna have his head for this.

* * *

His cellphone rung for a third time and Dean mashed the answer button. "What?" he grumbled.

"I don't need a lecture from you, Bobby, so stop calling!" He pressed his foot down on the gas pedal and was about to hang up when he heard Bobby's labored breathing. "Bobby? What's wrong?"

"Dean, it's Sam. He's gone. You need to get back here pronto."

"What?!" Dean made a U-turn in the middle of the road and raced back the way he came.

"I was just talking to him after he woke up and then he got upset about something, blew out the lightbulbs. He'd asked me earlier to darken the room so I couldn't see shit. By the time I got a flashlight and more bulbs, he wasn't in the room anymore. I've looked all over the house and the yard and I can't find him."

"Fuck! I'll be there in ten."

* * *

Dean thundered into the house, one look at Bobby informing him Sam was still missing.

"You last saw him in his room?" Dean asked, already bounding up the stairs. Bobby called an affirmative after him. Dean darted into the room, searching the now-lit space for any clues as to where his brother had disappeared to this time. But the room was empty. There was nothing.

Except it _wasn't_ nothing. There was something off about the room, something in there, like a weird buzz of static whispering almost beyond his reach. Dean was hardly an expert when it came to psychic crap but he _was_ an expert when it came to Sam. He closed his eyes and concentrated on Sam, on the thought of him, on their newfound connection. Unable to explain how, he could tell Sam was still in the room with him. He could – God help him – _sense his energy_. And yet he couldn't see his little brother.

' _Sam? I know you're in here._ ' he called out tentatively.

There was an odd flash of power that caused the lights to flicker and then a timid voice replied ' _Here, but I don't wanna be. Here, but I don't wanna be._ ' Over and over.

Relief swelled through him. Sam was still close. Well, they didn't know how far this telepathy thing worked, but Dean assumed it was feet, not miles. Another thing for them to figure out. But Sam was here. He was safe. Anything else they could deal with.

Dean puzzled over what was happening for a little bit. Sam clearly had all sorts of new abilities that the kid didn't even seem aware of. He considered what Sam was saying and tried to imagine how uncontrolled powers might actualize what he was feeling. He felt the idea coalesce in his brain before the realization hit him with all the grace of a tsunami. Sam likely couldn't teleport to escape, but wouldn't it be just as effective to make someone _think_ you weren't there? Demon Sam had projected thoughts into Dean's mind before. What's to say Sam wasn't projecting a sense of Sam not being there now? Sam was probably just manipulating, albeit unwittingly, the hunters' minds into thinking they couldn't see him.

Testing this hypothesis, Dean held the idea of Sam being in the same room firmly in his mind. He practically willed Sam to be in there with him. When he opened his eyes and scanned the room, he was rewarded by the sight of Sam huddled in a corner behind the bed, head bowed down into his knees. His fingers were fervently trying to burrow into his own flesh.

"Sammy," Dean said softly and moved towards him to crouch in front of him but kept several feet of space between them. "I know you don't wanna be here, but I want you here, and big brother knows best, yeah?"

Sam's hands stopped and Dean held his breath, hoping Sam would surface and recognize him.

Silence hung between them and tension crackled along Dean's nerves. _'If big brother knows best, then why didn't you kill me like you said you would? We coulda avoided all of this if you'd just followed through_.'

"What?!" Dean nearly fell over he was so startled by Sam's emotionless response. "Kill you? When did I say I was gonna kill you?!"

Sam's fingers started knotting again. ' _You really don't remember? 'Listen to me, you bloodsucking freak. Dad always said I'd either have to save you or kill you. Well, I'm giving you fair warning. I'm done trying to save you. You're a monster, Sam—''_ He finished reciting the message with Dean's inflection, clearly having memorized it.

"Oh, dammit, Sam, that voicemail… God, we really gotta do this now?"

' _Do what now? Kill me? Kinda too late for that… It won't stick…But you're welcome to try._ '

"No, Sam. Fuck, no, I'm not going to kill you, not ever. Look, there's something you have to know about that day, but I need to know you're paying attention." Sam's hands stilled but that wasn't enough for Dean. "Look at me."

Sam didn't move. ' _I'm listening._ '

"Look me in the eye, so you know I mean this."

It took Sam some time to force his muscles to comply, but he shakily rose his head and met Dean's gaze. Dean gave him a faint smile then set his lips as he prepared to right a serious wrong. "I did call you, before you took on Lilith. But I didn't leave all that bullshit, I promise, man. I said I was still mad but that we're still brothers. And that I was sorry for what I said in the hotel room. You didn't deserve that. We're family and nothing's gonna change that."

Sam's face folded in confusion. ' _But that's not what I heard—_ '

"I know. But you have to believe me. I was in Zachariah's green room when I called you and he must have messed with it. He said you would need a push to do what you were supposed to do. I didn't know what he meant until I heard that on your phone. Why would you even save that?"

Sam couldn't bear looking at Dean any longer. He dropped his gaze to the floor, his hair shielding his face. ' _T-to remind me how far I'd fallen, how much I'd fucked up. Whenever I wanted to call you or thought maybe you could forgive me one day, I'd listen to it, make sure I knew my place.'_

Dean sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Jesus, Sam. Have you really been going around for the past however many months thinking that shit was true? That I was gonna kill you?"

' _I was kinda waiting for it… And then when I got kidnapped, I figured problem solved… But, uh, yeah… And then either, well, if you knew what happened, you didn't care, or if you didn't know, you probably would think I was a coward and just ran off._ '

"I'll be honest with you, the second thing did cross my mind for like a week, but it didn't sit right with me. I've been looking for you since about the time you went missing from Oklahoma. Some weird stuff happened after you called me and told me about being Lucifer's vessel. I got sent—well, it doesn't matter, point is, I realized I'd made a huge mistake in letting you leave. We're better together and I've known it this whole time but haven't been able to tell you until now. Once I found out what you were going through… I just… Fuck, Sam. I don't know how you can ever forgive me. This is all my fault. I was such a shitty brother and because of that, you've been living in Hell on earth. I'd do anything to take it back. I'm so sorry."

Sam's whole body was shaking now but he was able to lift his eyes back to Dean's. ' _So it's okay if I stay?_ '

 _Goddamn, they broke my boy. Here I am begging for forgiveness and he's asking if he's allowed to stay. Jesus fucking Christ._ "Yes!" he almost shouted in response before tempering himself. "Yeah, of course, Sam. I don't want you anywhere but here, where I can watch over you and protect you and try to make this up to you."

Sam shook his head weakly. ' _No need to make it up. This wasn't your fault. Just please keep me away from th-them. I can deal with anything but being back there again._ '

"Cross my heart and hope to die, next time I see them, they are dead men. And anyone else you can't stand, you tell me, and they're goners. No one hurts you and gets away with it."

An ugly smirk danced on Sam's face for a moment. ' _You can't afford that much ammo._ '

"I'm not kidding, Sam."

' _Neither am I. A lot of people hate me. And they're right to. I started the Apocalypse. I let Lucifer out._ '

"One. They don't understand the half of it. Two. Last I checked, I broke the first seal – which, since we seem to be setting things straight, why the fuck did you tell them that you broke the first _and_ last seals?"

' _Didn't want them coming after you. They already had me. Made the most sense to keep all the blame on me._ ' Sam was so matter-of-fact about it, Dean could almost let it slide. Almost.

"Never mind the fact that it was _both_ of us. I don't need you out there putting yourself in more danger to protect me. That's not your job."

Sam looked down and didn't respond.

"You hearin' me?"

Sam nodded. ' _I don't care. I couldn't let that happen to you. I'd do it again._ ' Sam was as resolute as his broken soul could muster. It wasn't defiant, it was earnest. Heart-wrenchingly so.

Dean's eyes watered. Here was his baby brother, who'd been practically destroyed inside and out, saying he'd do it again, to save Dean from a similar fate, even though he thought Dean despised him. Dean felt he didn't deserve this kind of devotion. But he did understand it, considering he gave his own life for Sam's a few years ago. And look how that turned out…

Dean swallowed to force his throat to stop convulsing. "Well, I, uh, I appreciate it, Sam, but no more, okay? From here on out, we deal with everything together."

' _I know I'm useless right now, but I can be decently powerful. You can use me however you see fit._ ' Sam pushed himself up to his knees with his gaze to the floor, head bowed in submission.

"Use you?!" Dean choked out. "No, no, no, Sam. Uh-uh. No one is using anyone. We're gonna train so you can control your powers, but we're a team. Hunters, monsters, Apocalypse, whatever, we'll fight it side by side."

Now Sam's eyes were teary when he looked at Dean. ' _You mean it?_ '

"Yeah, man, 100%. Now can I give you a hug or what?"

' _I thought you didn't like chick flick moments?_ ' Sam asked seriously but he was struggling to keep a straight face.

"Will you just shut the fuck up and get over here?" Dean teased and leant in for the hug. Sam was still trembling but he could feel the smile radiating off Sam's soul. He pulled back and squeezed Sam's shoulders. "First things first. We need to bulk you back up. We get a stiff breeze and you'll fly off like a kite. Let's get you some grub and we can work out everything else later, okay?"

' _Big brother knows best, right?_ ' The quirk of Sam's lips was rather mischievous and Dean felt hope bloom in his heart. Things were a mess now but they were going to be alright. They were back together and Dean wasn't gonna fuck that up ever again.


End file.
